September 2, 2009
And I Lose Control
The truth is that I’m terrified, absolutely terrified. Not the kind of fear you get from the very top of the rollercoaster or a high building, or when you feel like you’ve taken a corner too sharp in your car. But the kind of afraid you had when you were a kid. The one when you lay in bed at night surrounded by dark on every side. The one where you thought about your parents dying. The one where you thought about being alone. The one when you thought about how many years, months, days, hours, seconds, breaths you had left. And then you’d start to count them (just to make sure they were still happening) one…two…three…i’m here…four…five…six…still here…seven….eight…Adults don’t want to talk about dying or losing, or hard things like that. Ignoring it is so much easier. I wish I could ignore it. I want to feel ok again. I don’t even care if I ever make it back to happy…I just want to be ok.